Thursday, April 30, 2015


****Seriously, what is up with these hormones.  3 posts in a week?  So much of my creative juices have been wrapped up in life, I guess they are starting to ooze out again.****

"Maybe you and I were never meant to be complete 

Could we just be broken together?
If you can bring your shattered dreams and I'll bring mine 
Could healing still be spoken and save us 
The only way we will last forever is broken together." - Casting Crowns

Yesterday, I heard this song on the radio.  Now, I've heard it before, but never had I had the opportunity to really *listen* to it.  Yesterday was a rare occurrence where I was in the car completely alone.  Seriously, never happens.

Anyway, I was listening to the lyrics and was struck.  Not about how the song was actually talking about marriage.  Which I did realize that.  But it struck me more about my relationship with God right now.

And it got me asking, why do we spend so much time pretending we are NOT broken.  Broken in all of our relationships in some way.  No one and no relationship is perfect.

Not even those with a strong faith and relationship with God.

We are ALL broken together.

So I'll start.  How am I broken?  Well, the current thought that prompted me to look into this song and this blog was my current "broken" relationship with God.  Not necessarily broken in the terms of turned around and walked away as I am still trying to walk that path and do the work necessary to repair it.  As I know the brokenness is on my end, not His.  But broken in the sense of I am no longer able to trust God to have everything under control.

There.  I said it.

Ever since I started on this journey of prematurity, 5.5 years ago.  Truthfully, a lot of good came out of that experience and I recognize that.  However, I will have to admit that I am not OK with that.  I don't know that I will ever be OK with that.  The ONLY ending to this current pregnancy that I will be OK with is one that ends full term and with a healthy baby and mom.  I can't be OK with God's "under control."

Do good things come out of these things?  Certainly.  Can God speak and be heard through these things?  Absolutely.

But is sitting by your child's bedside and watching them struggle and suffer a justifiable means to those ends?   Watching a loved one with tubes and wires coming from all sorts of unmentionable areas, struggling for breath or to beat an illness?  Burying your child before they even had a chance to live?  Really, burying your child at all.  Are any of these a justifiable means to an end?

No.  I honestly can not say I will ever say that it is.

Not that I expect life to always be roses and rainbows.  Not that I don't recognize that He walks through it with me and puts the people in my life to help me through the valley's.  I do.  I just can't say that I can walk through life, currently, believing that I can trust Him to bring about MY ok.

Maybe it's an unrealistic expectation of mine.  I don't know.  But that's my broken.  And maybe that's ok.  And maybe we are just meant to be "broken together."

What's yours?

Wednesday, April 29, 2015

She never ceases...

To amaze me.

Yesterday, as I was preparing my p17 shot, (suck it, prematurity.  You will not get this one too) Elisa begins asking me all about it.  And what it's for.  The conversation goes something like this?

E: "What's that, mommy?"
Me: "It's a shot of some medicine mommy needs to take."
E: "Why do you need that, mommy?"
Me: "Well, it's to help the baby stay in mommy's tummy longer."
E thinks about that for a second: "Mom, you forgot to take that when I was in your tummy, didn't you?"

Can we say ouch?!  Preemie mom guilt 101 and my own preemie child is now laying it on me lol.

I tried to explain to her how we just didn't know I needed it when she was in my tummy.  That not every mom needs it, sometimes babies stay in their mommy's tummy until it's time to come out.  But she persisted.  "Why didn't you make the doctors give it to you?  Did you tell them you needed it?"

Can we say stubborn?

Maybe it's just maternal pride, but I can't believe how she made that connection and just this young age of 5.  But, then again, she always was a bit more "mature" than her age.  Even in the NICU.  They couldn't seem to believe how she was doing the things she was doing at her gestational age.  No vent at 29 weeks, breathing on her own.  Asking for bottles at 33 weeks gestation.  Not supposed to do that until 34.  Released at less than 36 gestation, not supposed to do that until 40.  Or more, usually.


So maybe I shouldn't really be surprised that she could make that connection.  She knows her story.  I hope she wants to share her story when she's older.  Because her story is as amazing as she is.

Sunday, April 26, 2015


"A feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease, 
typically about an imminent event or something with an uncertain outcome."

Today, as I sat in church, I found myself suddenly overwhelmed with images.  Images of babies of a much earlier gestation than Elisa.  Images of sudden, unexpected deliveries coming out of left field.

I have no idea why.  There was no trigger in anything that was being discussed.  The subject matter was far removed from anything even related.  But all I know is I wanted to just curl up and cry my eyes out and beg and plead as I can NOT do another NICU stay.

I've spent most of this pregnancy pretty much removed, emotionally.  I was surprised when the test came up positive, testing on a whim because I was one day late.  Which, for me, means nothing.  And then, at what I thought was almost 8 weeks pregnant, an ultrasound showed a baby only around 5.5 weeks, almost 2 weeks behind what dates should have been.  On top of that, progesterone was waaaaay to low.  At that point, I resigned myself to the inevitable and waited for the end to start.

Only, it didn't.  2 weeks later, ultrasound showed appropriate growth and progesterone quadrupled to almost 24.

And then...I had to tell.  And in all honesty, I was terrified.  What would people think?  I beat the odds once.  Could I really do it again?  Was I insane to think I could possibly do it again?  Just because Aidan made it to 37 weeks, doesn't mean this one will.  The last pregnancy is more telling of the outcome than the previous, but my risk is no less.  

Truth be told, most of those fears came because it was what I was thinking, not really what I thought anyone else was thinking.

So here I am, 19 weeks and 2 days pregnant and beginning to enter the other most terrifying time for me in a pregnancy.  That time where there will be no attempt to stop labor should it come on.  That time where I cross my fingers, toes, legs, arms that my body will behave.

And pray, beg, plead, whatever it takes to at least make 29 if things go wrong.  Where at least I know what to expect. 

I sure hope whoever is reading this knows, that I want nothing less than 37.  I am counting on nothing less.  But I also know, realistically, that may not happen and in no way am I setting myself up for that.  I am putting my head up high, my shoulders back, believing I will make that 37.  But preparing myself for a curve ball.  I can't bury my head in the sand.

But, the irony of this morning is when we got home.  After the baby was extremely quiet and still all day yesterday, it decided to have a party at quiet time.  I couldn't help but smile and think, this one, and God, was telling me it will all be ok.

I just hope God's "ok" and my "ok" line up this time.


Monday, March 30, 2015

Life with him

Is never dull.  He was born a firecracker, and I swear he should be a redhead with that temper of his.  I'm always at a loss how to handle the full blown tantrums that can last for hours and no amount of redirection will help.  It seems like after all this time of still not getting what he wants, he'd have figured out the tantrums just aren't working and move on.

But, I digress.  For even though he can be hard to handle, he is something else.  His personality is vibrant, like his sister, but in an entirely different way.  His is more quiet and more apparent in his expressions than in his actions.

As much as it annoys me, I love how he is so enamored with the tape measure, and always insists on holding it.  He walks around the room declaring things "oh just so big!"  or "so tall!"  He measures the table, his truck, himself, the room.

Today, he took his Handy Manny tools and attempted to "fix" the lamp.

Thankfully, no harm came to the lamp....or to him.

Is it because he's a boy?  Or because of DNA?  I don't know.  All I know is I've learned I can not trust him.  If he is quiet, most likely it's not because he's sitting quietly in his room.  Reading a book.  Or watching a movie.  Or playing with his toys.

No.  It's likely because he's gotten into something he shouldn't.  And is enjoying himself before he gets caught.  I have no pictures of his antics, because even my hobby does not come above ensuring his safety and I don't want him to come up with the idea that he will get some attention from me by doing these things.  Like climbing on the counter to get the scissors.  Or into the shower to get the shower cleaner.  Or onto the bookshelf to get to his pictures.  Or the toy that was recently taken away.

But when he insists on wearing his shoes to bed, since all reindeers wear shoes on their hands.

Or run around in a batman cape.

In your diaper.  Because for some reason he's decided that big boys don't use potty's.  But prefer the convenience (and stink) of sitting in his diaper.  To the point of epic tantrum if you try to change him or even suggest that he use the potty.

Or flash those silly faces.

Life with you, baby boy.  Is never dull.

 And oh so full of joy.

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Wordless Wednesday - March 25, 2015

It's Wednesday.  And somethings just require no words.

September 18, 2015

Saturday, March 14, 2015

Here! Here!

Today, we decided to attend the annual St. Patrick's Day parade.

So, we didn't entirely dress up in theme, but hey.  We went.  The entire purpose in going was as a reward for two little kiddos who have put up with their home in disarray (again) as we yet (again) renovated a room.  This time, it was their bathroom.

 We got there pretty much on time so it was a challenge finding a spot near the front where we thought for sure they would have gobs of candy lobbed at them.

 Unfortunately, we were a bit disappointed in that.  The kids spent most of their time with their hands waving or out crying "Here! Here!" and doing their best to get the float participants attention all while remaining behind the line on the road we told them they couldn't pass.

But the first 10-15 floats had absolutely NO candy at all on them and instead a bunch of colorfully dressed people waving.  Once floats started appearing with candy, they either tossed out 1-2 pieces for each side of the road.  Each of which held 20-30 screaming kids clutching their plastic sacks in anticipation of all the candy they would gather.

Finally, floats started arriving that were tossing out handfuls in all directions.  But each and every time, they ran out of candy in their boxes/bags/totes/whatever at the very moment they passed us by.

If the floats decided to personally hand out the candy, the kids to the right and to the left of us got the candy while mine were woefully ignored.

Needless to say it was a frustrating experience.  At one point, after complaining to one of the volunteers, he made it a point to pick up the stray candy that was too far in the road for the kids to gather and personally handed it to us.  Through some pretty strange antics of ours, we managed to gain enough attention to get a few beads and other goodies.

Still, we managed to leave with a decent pocketful of candy, a bunch of sunshine, fresh air and a long walk.  It wasn't all a loss.

Saturday, February 28, 2015


This about describes our mood around here lately.  I think we are all done with being cooped up.  Everyone is ready for some warmer weather.

This meme I found on Facebook earlier this week about sums up my feelings on the week I had.

Meh.  Just meh.